[First things first: a prince is the concept that hits her about as hard as your lord had tripped Prompto, because — a prince? A prince!
...A foreign prince, evidently, with a name she doesn't recognize. Noctis, that's Latin, isn't it? Not that she's much of a student of Latin (at all), but it certainly sounds...continental. Perhaps Italian? There might well be any number of Italian princes, they do all sorts of odd things in far-flung foreign countries.
Without even thinking about it, her hand has found its way to the tattered ends of her hacked-off hair, twisting at the uneven tips like she's subconsciously lamenting them already, and she looks down at her (awful, borrowed, probably once belonged to a Lady Of The Night™) dress and catches her lip in her teeth as she consciously starts to lament that, too. Is she cold? He's probably not really asking if she's cold; no, he's probably trying to be discreet that she's completely inappropriately dressed to come anywhere near his prince. It's got a square neckline, heaven help her, she's a disaster.]
I...I see. And you said you were Sir Prompto Argentum, yourself — I'm so very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.
[Her curtsey is perfect, even for a probably-belonged-to-a-hooker dress.]
Would you, perchance — that is, might a lady in some distress call upon you to escort her to this..station of yours? If you would be so kind...
no subject
...A foreign prince, evidently, with a name she doesn't recognize. Noctis, that's Latin, isn't it? Not that she's much of a student of Latin (at all), but it certainly sounds...continental. Perhaps Italian? There might well be any number of Italian princes, they do all sorts of odd things in far-flung foreign countries.
Without even thinking about it, her hand has found its way to the tattered ends of her hacked-off hair, twisting at the uneven tips like she's subconsciously lamenting them already, and she looks down at her (awful, borrowed, probably once belonged to a Lady Of The Night™) dress and catches her lip in her teeth as she consciously starts to lament that, too. Is she cold? He's probably not really asking if she's cold; no, he's probably trying to be discreet that she's completely inappropriately dressed to come anywhere near his prince. It's got a square neckline, heaven help her, she's a disaster.]
I...I see. And you said you were Sir Prompto Argentum, yourself — I'm so very pleased to make your acquaintance, sir.
[Her curtsey is perfect, even for a probably-belonged-to-a-hooker dress.]
Would you, perchance — that is, might a lady in some distress call upon you to escort her to this..station of yours? If you would be so kind...